


We can work through it, can't we?

by BenignIdealist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-21 17:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenignIdealist/pseuds/BenignIdealist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine person A taking care of person B after their suicide attempt</p>
<p>Dave tried to kill himself, but it didn't work and he was on the hospital for two weeks. He asks John to write him a song while he's in there, bc he loves hearing John play piano.<br/>This is him getting home, and everybody patching things up in their own ways.<br/>Hurt/Comfort</p>
            </blockquote>





	We can work through it, can't we?

**Author's Note:**

> I just  
> Bluh  
> I don't even really know  
> Sads  
> Ps I'm sorry but everybody is horribly OOC

"Dave..?"  
He pauses, scuffing his shoe. "Hi John."  
You fight back tears. "Welcome home."  
"Thanks."  
You stand a few feet apart, and you're scared to reach forwards. You want to hold him, but... Dave didn't really like hugs. Or any sort of physical contact that wasn't at the lips. So maybe he'd be more comfortable if you didn't touch him at all.  
The following moments were silent, and awkward as fuck.  
Dave leans on his other foot.  
"I'm glad you're alright."  
He snorts, tossing his head to shake his hair out of his eyes. "How alright can I be, you know what I was there for."  
You drop your gaze, ashamed. "R-right. Sorry."  
"Don't fuckin' apologise, Jesus Christ, how many times do I need to fucking tell you?"  
You just laugh quietly, wringing your fingers. You feel like shit.  
A few more moments of awkward silence occur.  
"... So, did you finish that song?"  
"I- um- y-yeah!" You fumble in your pocket for your memory card, handing it to him shakily. "I. Uh. I hope. That you l-like them."  
"Them?"  
You nod hesitantly. "I got sort of caught up and. Um. Played a bunch."  
His fingers brush yours when you hand the small piece of technology over to him, and you can't stop yourself from stepping forwards and standing right up against his chest, leaning your forehead against his sternum.  
"I'm so glad you're home Dave. I missed you so much." You whimper, tears flooding forth as you draw away abruptly and turn, running away from Dave.  
You feel like shit once you turn the corner of the school, blubbering weakly and sniffling, wiping your face with your sleeve and biting down on your lip. You would never forget the look on Dave's face when you had started to cry.  
He looked disgusted. His mouth had twisted down and he'd made a disgruntled noise, looking like he'd just chewed a lemon seed.  
You're sick behind the bushes.  
You go home.

\-----

Needless to say, dad isn't happy that you skipped the day. He's also pretty unhappy with the fact that you won't tell him what happened.  
You tell him you'll be back at school tomorrow and that you're sorry.

And you are.  
You sit in first period, history class, and Dave sits in his spot next to you, and your only communication is the few words he speaks to get your notes from you from the two weeks he was missing from school. You just slide your binder over wordlessly.  
In math, you can't stay awake. You end up sleeping through the class. 

You don't eat, when lunch rolls around. You get there, see Dave at the table, and promptly tell the others that you're just going to be in the library if they need you, you need to get some work done, something due next period.  
Rose gives you a look.  
Dave's fists clench.  
You almost cry. 

You don't go to the library. You go to the music room, empty of classes for the period, and set up the keyboard, sitting down in front of it.  
You tune out the rest of the world, and play.

When you notice Dave behind you, you aren't sure how long he'd been standing there watching you play. Your fingers on the keys stutter and freeze, and you stand up quickly, knocking the chair over.  
"I-I'm sorry, did you want to use the keyboard? I'm done now anyways, sorry," you blurt nervously, righting the chair and gathering your things, moving to skirt around Dave, but he grabs your arm.  
"Wait."  
You freeze obediently, staring at your shoes.  
"I want to talk to you."  
You wait quietly for him to continue speaking.  
"I think. We should just split. After what I did, it can't work anyways."  
Your eyes fill with tears, and if you had wanted to speak before, you couldn't now.  
"Thought about you a lot in the hospital. Realised that this couldn't have worked out. You're just way too..." He trails off, and grunts.  
You can't help but be wounded by how sickened he sounds.  
"Whatever. But we're done now, okay? I think we should just forget about all that shit. About each other. I mean, who fucking cares what we might have had if it's dead now, right? So we should just forget we ever went together, because in the end it really meant shit all."  
That hurt. That hurt a lot. What you had with Dave meant everything to you.  
Apparently it shouldn't have.  
Because you meant nothing to him.  
"Anyways, I'm gonna go. Rose'll probably want to bitch at me for this, so."  
"I won't say anything to Rose about it."  
He looks at you curiously, dropping your arm.  
"Well, none of it was worth anything right? So I have no reason to complain about you ending it." Your voice is tiny, strained and tight and hurting. "If it didn't matter in the first place, there's no reasons for it to mean something now." You tell him quietly, and leave. The bell rang, you have to go to class anyways.

You can't concentrate on science, once you get there. All you can think about is Dave.  
You couldn't be enough for him.  
You couldn't be enough for anybody, why did you think you could be, for a while there?

Why the hell did Dave put up with your shit for so long anyways?  
Well, you should have seen it coming. He wouldn't even hold your hand, even though your been officially dating for almost three years.  
You still hadn't been on an actual date. Sometimes he would pull you into store room after school and lock the door, and proceed to kiss the fuck out of you against the wall. About three months ago, during one of those sessions, he opened up the front of your jeans and touched you- but you panicked and told him to stop. He hasn't kissed you since then- hadn't gone anywhere near you since then.  
You guess you fucked up really badly, in hindsight.  
You should have just let him do what he wanted.  
Maybe you'd have been able to please him even a little, maybe enough to make him keep you.

Thinking about it now, you guess it really hadn't meant anything to Dave. After the first month and a half you worked up the guts to tell him you loved him, and after that you'd said it on an hourly basis pretty much, but Dave had never reciprocated. He'd never even said he liked you, not once.

The realisation hits you like a blow- you'd been forcing your feelings onto Dave the entire time.  
Fuck.

You walk home by yourself.  
When you get back, you find a message from your dad taped to the fridge. He had to work late, and probably wouldn't be back until 11.  
You make supper for him, and put it into a Tupperware in the fridge, before going up to your room. You do your homework, and curl up into a ball under your blankets after you're finished.  
Everything hurts. You feel sick.  
You think this is what heartbreak feels like. You'd never felt what you'd felt for Dave about anybody else.  
But you guess that didn't mean anything, you were just some stupid faggot teenager, what did you know anyways?  
You cry until you can't anymore, shaking and soggy and hurting.  
When dad gets home, you pretend to be asleep.  
You don't actually get any sleep at all.

\-----

After two weeks of Dave being home, the others start to notice how little time you spend doing anything but working and sleeping.  
You giggle stupidly and hug Rose and Jade and assure them that you're just trying to pull your grades up because dad wanted to see you do better, and that tired you out a lot.  
Neither of them buy it.  
Both of them make dates to spend time with you, to try and talk about whatever was bothering you. You plan to cancel on them last minute.  
Dave asks you in history if you're going to tell them.  
You say no, and put your head down on the desk, sleeping through the rest of the period.  
Dave kicks your chair when the bell goes to wake you up as he leaves.  
You blearily mutter a thank you and gather your things.

\--

Your name is Dave Strider, and you are currently being interrogated by your younger sister.  
"What happened between you and John?"  
"What the hell are you going on about?"  
She huffs delicately. "He's quite obviously still depressed. And you're not even mentioning it. I don't think you've shown him the least bit of concern for his health. You've been helping him work through this for years- why the sudden lack of caring as he plummets back to the stage he was at when he was thirteen?"  
You scoff. "Why should I care whether or not he can take care of himself?"  
"Are you hearing yourself? Dave, what the hell are you saying?"  
"I'm saying I don't give a fuck. John's business is his own."  
"Dave, you love him, and he loves you. It's absolutely your business. What are you going to do if he ends up in the same place you only just were discharged from?"  
"He's not going to fucking kill himself." You snap.  
She watches you carefully, frowning. "And how can you be so sure? When he does spend time with us, neither of you say a god damned word to each other." Rose bites off angrily. "He's my friend too Dave. And whatever happened, you need to fix it, and remove whatever vow of silence you've got him promised under, because I can't help him either if he won't talk to me. You need to smarten up and take responsibility."  
"I'm done here. Go bitch at Dirk." You say scathingly, standing up off of the sofa and walking to the door, shoving your feet into your shoes and pulling your jacket on.  
"/Dave/!"  
"Fucking what?"  
She stands up and is immediately pressed up against your chest, her voice low. "You fix this. I will not stand by and let you leave this boy to ruin. Stop being so unbearably fucking blind and open your eyes. See the consequences of whatever you've done to John. Help him, or step aside and let the other people who care about him have a chance."  
You leave.

\-----

You're now, once again, Jonathan Egbert, and you miss Dave. You miss Dave a lot. And now he was standing in your doorway.  
"H-hi Dave. What do you need?"  
"Can I come in?"  
"Ah- yeah, I'm sorry. Please do."  
He steps in, toeing his shoes off at the mat and shrugging off his jacket. "Is your dad home? Can we go upstairs?"  
"Y-yeah, of course." You say, leading him in. When you pass your dad in his office, you pause in the doorway. "Dave's here. We'll be upstairs if you need dad."  
"Alright son. Welcome back, David." He smiles warmly.  
Dave returns the gesture. "Thanks, mr. Egbert. It's good to be back."  
You feel a little sick. Well. At least he still liked dad.

You go upstairs, Dave following, and go into your room. You sit down on your bed, and Dave spins around your desk chair to follow suit.  
"So." He starts. "Us."  
"There's still an us?"  
He pauses, looking wounded. "No. But. But I think I made a mistake."  
You blink, watching him carefully.  
"It's. Been pointed out to me that I probably fucked you over hardcore by ending it like that, especially right after I. Well. Tried to end it." He laughs bitterly. "I wanted to see how you were doing. Haven't been around much. For my sake, I think. So I thought I'd check in and see how you were holding up."  
"Why?" You ask, confused.  
"Because I've been stupid. And I've just. Been hurting a lot."  
"It's okay to feel that way Dave,"  
"No- I've been putting you through a hell of a lot worse!"  
You curl your knees up to your chest when he snaps at you, and you flinch. "I can deal with it."  
"You shouldn't have to though-"  
"Why does it matter anyways? I'm nothing to you. I've never meant anything to you. You told me so, and I know that you would never lie to me."  
"I'm sorry."  
"Don't. Being sorry means you regret something. If you don't care about me then there's nothing to regret about hurting me."  
"Well I do."  
You stare at your hands. "I wish you wouldn't."  
Dave looks up at you, startled. "What?"  
"I wish you wouldn't be sorry. I wish you didn't care." You bite your lip as you start to cry. "I wish you didn't have to hurt because of me. I'm so sorry."  
"Shut up with that shit. You've done nothing but be good to me, and I've been treating you like shit."  
"I deserve it."  
"No, you don't-"  
"Obviously I do. Or else it wouldn't happen."  
"Right. That 'people only get what they deserve and nothing more or less' thing you believe in so firmly."  
You bristle. "It's something to believe in."  
"Did I deserve to get raped?"  
You look up.  
"Well? I guess I was asking for it. It was supposed to happen. I deserved it."  
"No- Dave you can't-"  
"If you deserve to be treated like dirt by somebody you care about than I deserve sexual assault."  
You fall silent.  
"Well?"  
"... I didn't know."  
"You wouldn't. I haven't told anybody else. Not even Bro."  
A fresh wave of tears spill forth.  
"So what's your take, reverend? Still deserve to be mistreated?"  
"Yes. I deserve it."  
Dave swears, and clenches his fists.  
"You deserved it too. But not like you think. Trying situations are meant to teach you, not necessarily to punish you."  
"So what's my lesson, preacher man?"  
You flinch. "That's up to you. You need to figure it out."  
Dave snorts. "I should go. This sounds like faith bullshit to me."  
"Thats fair. Dad thinks I'm stupid too." You say. "Are you okay?"  
"What?"  
"Are you okay. You just admitted to something huge. I want to make sure you're okay."  
"No. I'm not. I fucking hate myself and I've screwed up the best thing I had- the only thing that really mattered- by pretending it didn't."  
"Can I help?"  
"Why would you want to help?"  
"Because I forgive you. I'm not mad. Yeah you've treated me badly, but. I forgive you."  
He stands abruptly, shoving his chair away and storming out.  
Oh.  
You guess you fucked up again.


End file.
